


Rock and a Hard Place

by Jezmatron



Series: Space Captain Catra [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Combat, F/F, Friends to Enemies, MISSILES!, One Shot, VOLTRON inspired., maybe more down the line, pew pew, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26607061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jezmatron/pseuds/Jezmatron
Summary: A routine patrol in the outer territories goes awry for the rebellious Captain Catra. On a survey and oppress mission for the Glorious Empire, her ship, the Shadow, has a run in with a seemingly innocuous mining ship.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Implied Adora/Catra
Series: Space Captain Catra [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1935604
Comments: 25
Kudos: 70





	Rock and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, a short story I had in my head today. A one shot I wanted to just try - mostly space combat, a little bit of world building.
> 
> Inspired by the space combat of VOLTRON and a scene from Galaxy Quest ;)
> 
> I MIGHT do some more in this world - not a full STORY but perhaps a few one shots. See what people think.

_“Captain to the bridge. Transition to real space in 30 minutes.”_

It shouldn’t be possible for an AI to be _snarky_ . Especially not with a routine alarm. Yet the on board ship computer manages it _every single time_. It might have something to do with the modifications they made off the books. Or the fact that the computer clearly _loathes_ everyone on board.

Catra groaned as she stretched, the crack of her limbs almost audible in the relative luxury of her quarters. As the captain, she was entitled to her own room; this being a cruiser, however, space was limited, so her room was hardly _stateroom_ style. But that wasn’t likely _anyway_ . Not with how the Grand Navy outfitted their vessels. A desk, a single bed set into an alcove and a decent set of storage for her _amazing_ wardrobe of clothes. Oh, and a cubicle for ablutions - shit and shower in one easy to access alcove.

Combat gear, dress uniform and her normal duty clothes. _Hardly_ the high fashions of the Capital, Prime.

She rolled out of her bunk and grunted. Her black tail swished behind her and her ears flattened against her head. She scrubbed the short fur on her face with one hand and grumbled again, then stood.

She didn’t _enjoy_ showers, but it was a good way to at least wake herself up - lukewarm water at relatively high pressure. She hugged herself tight as it blasted across her. A switch of the control pad and the alcove filled with warm air, blasted from the sides, which rapidly dried her off. Efficient (It used some of the vessel’s excess heat) and better than having to launder towels along with all the crew uniforms - anything to reduce water use.

She fished out her duty clothes - a crimson body-suit with black straps and a belt, then plucked out her Captain’s jacket, which she slung across one shoulder. She grimaced at the hat and decided to just stick with her ceremonial mask - an old heirloom of her clan, years back. Before she’d been dragooned into the Academy.

One of the few things of her past she still had.

That had _remained_.

With a huff she pushed the thoughts back and rolled her shoulders, then headed for the bridge. The door to her cabin hissed open and she stalked the short distance to the steep set of stairs that led to the upper deck. The interior of the vessel was fairly compact - all olive green and crab-grey paint and steel. She ascended and gave half-hearted salutes to the overall-clad crewmen that sidled past in the narrow corridors.

It was a short walk - her quarters were only a deck below the bridge (For ease of access - some vessels had the captain’s quarters RIGHT OFF the bridge. She _never_ wanted to serve on one of those ships)

The double doors slid open to reveal a bustling hive of activity - the morning shift had just taken over, as per standing regulations - ready to report to the Captain. And first up was, of course…

“MORNIN’ Wildc- I mean _Captain_ … um, so, I have keyed up the transition reports, most recent sensor readings and sunlight comms from the Sector Headquarters…. Oh and we have three priority messages. And, um, your… tea?”

Catra stared at her XO. The woman was tall, had a scorpion tail and was practically bursting out of her regulation uniform due to the sheer amount of muscle she packed onto her frame. She had a mug expertly clutched in one pincer and a data pad in the other. The feline regarded her steadily then held out her hand. The mug was passed to her. Catra maintained eye contact and sipped.

The noise was a loud _slurp_ throughout the suddenly quiet bridge. Catra lowered the mug and then grinned, “Thanks Scorp’. Right, let’s see what the assholes have on the docket.”

Scorpia’s grin, which had been pensive, broadened, “Hooo, had me going there…”

Catra snorted and walked to the Captain’s chair, which she draped herself into languorously, “EH, time and a place. No _Wildcat_ in the crew decks and we’re cool, ‘k?”

“Gotcha.”  
  


“ _Your informality is a blight on the smooth operating of this vessel_.”

“And good morning to you to Weaver, you joyless bunch of bolts,” Catra’s voice was a sing-song as she spoke to the air. One of the bridge crew, Lonnie, chuckled.

_“Insolent….”_

“Ah ah ah… we’ve had this conversation. Play nice…”

_“If I had full functionality, you would not be so flippant, child_.”

“And yet you don’t…. And you _won’t_ . Not after you tried spacing Rogelio that one time,” At the helm, a large reptile turned his head and made a series of grumbling growls, “See, he’s still _upset_.”

_“Inconsequential. I would improve the operation of the Shadow by 87.5% with full capability.”_

“And you’d be sending every single regulation break and spy on us every hour of the day. No _thank_ you. We know what we’re doing, we don’t need sub-division command counting the number of toilet breaks the crew takes, or how many hours of sleep everyone’s getting. Not if it means they decide that we haven’t hit _peak_ efficiency and dock shore leave. That level of BS isn’t _cool_.”

_“You are weak. You…”_

“Yeah, can it tin can. Key up those messages and a summary of the sector our glorious bureaucratic sub-sector commander wants us to check out,” Catra sipped her tea again and waited.

_“I am unable to perform that function,”_ the voice was now honeyed, seductive, _“If you re-enable my communication functions I would be able to…_ ”

“Yeah, NOPE, Weaver,” Catra tapped a button on the edge of the Captain’s chair, “Bridge to Engineering… Entrapta, you awake?”

_“CATRA! How good to hear from you! I wasn’t expecting a call!”_

“So, how’s that purge protocol?”  
  


_“OHHH! DO I GET TO REINSTALL THE AI?! OH GOODY! YAY! I’ll just need to jimmy the bolts to the mainframe again… wait, we already burned our way in, didn’t we? OH GOOD! Let me just grab the drive and…._

The AI’s clipped voice cut through again, “ _Summary loading, messages prepared and ready for your review..._ Captain Catra.”   
  


“Why _thank_ you Weaver, so kind. Entrapta, stand down on that. For now.”

_“Awwwwwwwww… alright, I suppose it gives me more time to perfect the protocol and integration code… don’t want to fry all our subsystems with a bad install!”_

“Yeah… that’d be unfortunate. Any shifts in the engine or system, let me know.”

_“Will do… wait, no… AYE AYE!”_

Catra snorted and cut the comm. The threat had worked at least… even if it was barely above a bluff.

Command ran the Navy on a sort of policy of _fear_. Not really _merit_. And for a while, Catra had done really REALLY well with it. Except it was exhausting and left crews strung out and, ultimately, vulnerable. They were liable to mutiny or just panic when put under combat pressure. And Command’s response was to just tighten the leash.

It sprang from the lack of control the Brass on Prime really had - remote colonies, or far flung patrol ships could be a _flight risk_ , so they tried to collar them. Instead of trusting a crew’s loyalty, they put shock collars (metaphorically) on them.

And the ship AI was one such method of control. A direct link to command, the Weaver line of AI nodes were… sadistic. They basically _ran_ the ships day to day - the Captains were essentially _second in command_ to their ship’s damn mainframe.

Except, after five years of climbing the ranks and after her prior crew had nearly successfully mutinied against her overenthusiastic use of fear as a tool, Catra had had a bit of a revelation. Neuter the AI, get the crew to _respect_ her instead… and bam, loyal crew, easy ride. She’d been lucky she’d had Scorpia and Entrapta with her - who’d somehow, for _some reason_ , stuck with her despite her absolutely _awful_ behaviour the past three years.

She reckoned that, as she’d been given this downgrade of a ship (A frontier cruiser, when she should’ve gotten a _destroyer_.) her plan to neuter the AI had been all it’d taken to encourage Entrapta. And some flowery words to Scorpia were always enough… and this time she’d even meant a few of them.

It didn’t hurt that they were in the equivalent of the _rural wastes_ here. Some regional subsector, barely explored, given to one of the local Governors as a _development_ project. So, longer communication delays (Hours rather than minutes), lack of local forces and a trues sense of _independence_.

The crew had been harder to win over - half of them had been part of her _prior_ command - HQ’s idea of a punishment joke - work with the people who you nearly got killed and nearly killed you. It solved all their _insubordination_ problems in one neat package with a disposable ship in a low-value sector.

First couple of weeks, Weaver had _exulted_ in tormenting Catra - early morning wakeups, undermining her in front of the crew; flogging the crew with ridiculous shifts; random drills; faked combat alerts to just keep everyone on edge.

Right up until Catra had gotten Entrapta to spoof a fire in the sealed mainframe sector. Which had sent Weaver into a panic - enough that, when Catra had, with a voice of _quiet concern_ offered to cut in and save the AI, the computer had just said _yes_ . And then had been horrified as Entrapta (After Scorpia had blowtorched her way in) had basically _hacked_ her with a drive plug in.

So, they had a tame AI, Entrapta had managed to take manual control of most of the systems AND Catra had instituted a better shift pattern for the crew - less out of kindness, but because it just _worked_ . And it made them _trust_ her. Throw in a reassuring speech across the ship about _better operating conditions_ and _I’ve learned, I’ve got your back._

She was idly considering quitting the navy and writing a book on leadership at this rate…

Catra smirked as she flicked through the messages - first was to be expected; a Tech request for an update on the AI’s lack of regular updates. That one was being handled by Entrapta who was spoofing Weaver’s regular reports.

The second should _not_ have been a priority message - just some updates on celebrations of the Emperor’s birthday. One of twelve the man had every year. Catra sighed and filed it away - there was no _delete_ function in the system. She licked her hand down the pad and frowned at the last message, then tapped to open the system summary.

The sub sector had about seven or eight solar systems as part of its cluster. All of them were fairly dreary - underdeveloped, small settler colonies, the odd installation. Most of the stuff here was from people who’d fled the Empire…. And she was here to bring them to heel. Remind them that _no where_ was safe.

She’d heard a crew member suggest they go pirate, since they were so far out _and_ had co-opted the AI. Catra had pinned him against the wall and asked if they fancied spending the _rest_ of their life a fugitive. And whether the Empire would tolerate the news of one of their ships _getting free_.

No, better to skirt the boundaries, have that illusion of freedom, then wipe Weaver before they got back to a more settled port and the next round of promotions. They’d have a good couple of years out here at least - survey and scouting picket missions were always long haul. They could stretch it out. Safer that way.

Going freelance was a way to make sure they’d NEVER be able to make it in the Imperial systems.

She focused in on the map again, marshalling her idle thoughts. Yeah, the boonies. Rogue miners and prospectors; pirate enclaves; MAYBE the odd attempt at rebellion.

Which was why that last message was weird - it was a Priority flash to keep on alert for _insurgent forces_.

But there was _nothing here_. It was no where near trade routes. FAR away from Naval staging posts. No strategic value.

“Scorp’ where the hell _is_ this place?”

_“If you had bothered with your orders orientation, you would know,_ ” sneered the ship’s computer.

“Can it,” hissed Catra, then tilted her head back to star at her XO.

The Scorpion woman hummed for a moment, “Uhm… Thaymor system, tagged as a potential archaeology site buuuuut mostly just a mining claim that hasn’t been developed - just a bit too far to be currently profitable for some of the companies… or state owned interests, y’know?”

“Huh. Right, I’m opening this to the floor, any ideas _why_ we’d have insurgents out here?”

_“That information is command eyes only!”_

“Don’t make me call Entrapta again…” hummed Catra. The AI clammed up again. Yeah, now the damn thing couldn’t arbitrarily force people to space disobedient crew, it was a metric tonne more compliant.

Plus the thermite charge on the mainframe was a good incentive. Or Entrapta’s little data drive.

Lonnie, at her drone station, pushed one arm over the back of the chair, “Archaeology? Maybe they’re… tomb raiding?”

Catra mused then shrugged, “What, find some prophetic scroll that says the Empire’s _bad_ and we all spontaneously surrender?”

Lonnie waved her hands in mock horror, “Oh no! The truth of ages!”

Rogelio rumbled a chuckle and even the diminutive Kyle, on the opposite side of the helmsman to Lonnie, giggled. Catra smirked - they’d been the three who’d spearheaded the prior mutiny and, whilst they weren’t _friends_ , she now knew why they’d done it.

The same reason she’d crippled Weaver.

Of course, she still kept an eye on them - it was why they were on the same bridge shift as her. So, if they stepped out of line, she could kill them herself.

But they were, she hated to admit, amusing. And they worked scarily well together. She glanced over at Kyle, “Shortstuff, ideas?”

He shuddered at her voice - he was the _weak link_ but still capable - on very specific things. But if they ever got boarded he’d be most use as a piece of cover. With a gulp, the skinny blonde (Seriously, how did he ever pass the physicals?) managed, “Uhhh… smuggling? Selling off artefacts?”

“Huh… not actually a bad suggestion. Alright, so, keep an eye out for blockade runners and off-license haulers. If there’s some old artefacts here, we need to impound and wait for the bigger patrols to seize. Rogelio, time?”

The lizard growled and Weaver supplied, _“Three minutes to real space.”_

The crew sat in silence at their stations - Rogelio to the fore, flanked by the Drone and Weapons officers - Kyle and Lonnie. Each had their own readouts and a screen sat above and ahead of Rogelio for any large scale views they needed. A circular map projector sat in front of Catra, between her and Rogelio. Currently it had a 3D hologram of the system they were about to warp into gently rotating slowly. Catra peered at it, bored, whilst she drummed claws against the armrest of the command chair. Scorpia stood to one side checking through the communications hub. A couple of other crew members checked readouts and the sensor readings for their immediate vicinity. 

At the one minute mark, Catra ordered a general alert for the crew to brace for their drop to realspace. Inside the ship, the transition was a minor shudder and the faint sensation of nausea.

From outside, there was a flash actinic purple light and the ship slid into real space like a knife into yielding flesh. Catra leaned back in the command chair as the hologram flickered to show the ship itself, with various status reports.

The vessel was a standard picket cruiser - five hundred feet long, with a bulky profile The front was a heavily armoured frontage around a main gun. The ship was a boxy shape, blisters along its surface with point defence guns and missile tubes. A small bay under the belly for their four drone swarms. At the rear the ship had a pair of stubby wings that jutted out with a pair of forward guns. The squat bridge tower jutted up at the rear of the ship, with the engine exhausts below at the rear of the ship’s frame.

A pair of turrets sat atop and below the vessel, providing a little more in the way of heavy hitting beyond the point defence guns and the three forward facing armaments.

So, basically, a floating bundle of _pain_. The Empire believed in overwhelming levels of firepower, even on their smaller vessels. The running joke was that the ammunition had better living conditions than the crew. Given how much space was given over to it, it wasn’t entirely a joke.

“Report, how close does our intel match reality?” Catra’s voice was bored and she studied a claw as she lounged. Reality was, half the survey data they went with was months or years out of date. Sometimes _decades_. It was part of the reason they were out here - re-survey the system, update the Imperial logs.

Scorpia answered as she studied the map and compared it to her own pad, then hummed, “No IFF blips… people keeping quiet maybe?”

“Yeah, not likely to broadcast,” grumbled Lonnie. Catra hissed and the woman faced forward. They were on the clock - joking was pre-game…

“Go on, Commander,” murmured Catra. Scorpia nodded.

“So… ok that’s _weird_ . Should be five planets but long range is picking up four… got a planetoid near us, mostly ice, if our prior surveys were right… then a gas giant….”   
  


Catra bit her lip - gas giant was the most likely place for a refueling station if there _was_ any pirate or refugee presence. She hummed to herself in thought, “So we’re down a planet?”

“Yeah… big debris field though - like an asteroid belt but it hasn’t spread to ring the system… or the sensors can’t quite get a read. Think we need to head in system. Other planets…. Yeah the other two, one’s a rock. Too close to the star. The other… it’s in the habitable zone. Temperate. Report says vegetation and low level fauna. Sooo… new vacation spot?”

Catra could see the other crew perk up. She felt generous, “Eh, we could maybe do a _live_ survey… if people are on good behaviour,” she smirked as, _somehow_ , all three redoubled their focus on their screens, “Alright… drop a beacon here. That’ll give _Octavia’_ s little convoy a rally point. Set a timer for 5 days for RV with them for supply check in and data updates.”

“On it Wild…. Captain. New course?”

Catra nodded, “Hey, Rogelio,deploy beacon, set in for the ice ball… Weaver, make sure your sensors are open, record. OR I can get Entrapta to do it.

“ _No need, Captain… I am… functional.”_

“Let’s get this show on the road then,” chuckled Catra.

\--------

The first day was… dull. VERY dull. The ice ball was just that - an ice ball. There was a single comms signal from an abandoned research facility - some ancient survey that had clearly just not been worthwhile. They catalogued it and marked it for _maybe_ a surface trip if there was nothing else.

Off shift, Catra had slumped into her bunk and tried to block out the feeling she was exploring the unknown _alone_.

She had her crew, yes. She had Scorpia and Entrapta.

But she didn’t have the person she’d wanted to see the stars with. The person who…

Nope, she was here, she was _in command_ . She was _loyal_ . For a given value of loyalty - she was loyal enough to _progress_. And, after this little trip, she was sure she was going to land herself a comfortable role in Headquarters. On Prime. A cushy desk job, safe and secure, apartment complex and all the company she could buy…

Even if the thought left her a little hollow inside… it was still _her_ thoughts and _her_ choice.

\----

The second day was also dull. The night crew had checked the ice-ball’s moons and set a course for the gas giant. Initial reviews of the massive planet had yielded interesting results for several elements needed for fuel and complex manufacture. Catra and the day shift surveyed the moons, but they found no sign of a refuelling point. Or at least nothing _obvious_.

The third day, after the night crew had _thoroughly_ checked all the little planetoids and space debris around the giant, yielded _something_. They were on course in system, towards the ruined planet.

“Captain, got something on the scanners.”

Lonnie’s terminal was currently showing her the long range pings for electronic signatures. Catra tapped her own console and brought up a replica on the map table. She frowned, “What am I looking at?”

“Uhm… the asteroid belt. Or planet debris. Uh…. looks like a mobile signature, moving against the gravity well.”

“A ship?” Catra grinned, “Huh, we get to have some fun then…”

The crew shared eager expressions. Interactions with other vessels were usually _fun_ \- either a surrender and compliance… which at least meant communication. Or they got to flex their muscles and take out some of their excess energy, “Orders ma’am?”

Catra leaned back, “Lay in a course to intercept, Rogelio. Lonnie, warm up your drone swarm. Kyle, get yours in reserve. Oh, keep emissions down, let’s not tip ‘em off until we’re on top of them, ok?”

They cruised in system, until they were within a few thousand kilometres of the edge of the debris field. Catra couldn’t help but let out a low whistle as she viewed it on the map, then transferred a view to the main screen. The crew hummed in appreciation.

“Wow. I mean seriously, _wow_ … hoooo. What could _do_ that d’ya think? I mean, it was a planet twenty years ago! Now… BOOM, rock pile…” muttered Scorpia.

Catra shrugged in response, “Who knows. Might actually make mining easier though. Make a note for Hordak. He’ll want _local_ interests to have first dibs, if I got a read on him right from the briefing. Hey, Weaver, any pearls of wisdom to add?”

_“Beyond the fact that you are a finite being of flesh who will eventually wither and decay?”_

“Charming. Anything about our friend in the field over there?”

_“Well, if I must… it appears to be a mining vessel. Details on your monitor. Configuration is a multi-function tug.”_

Catra eyed the small wireframe that now floated on the hologram table. It was a squat, stub-nosed thing, about twenty yards long. A tug, basically. She recognised the configuration though - the Empire used them in shipyards and also for mining. They had an interesting feature in that they could shift from this stocky, muscle-shuttle form into a bipedal _walker_ of all things.

She’d always thought it was impractical - yeah, it meant the things could anchor to a station and move things about, but really. The mining variants she _sort_ of got - it allowed them to walk on an asteroid, safer than floating around it, supposedly. Plus it afforded them more relocation flexibility and the ability to actually enter bigger excavations.

Still seemed a bit _overly complicated_.

The ship had it’s “legs” under it, like a kneeling position. The main fuselage was arrow-head shaped, the “arms” under the fins of the arrow, folded away like the legs. When the thing shifted between modes, those “wings” would fold back as a stabiliser weight and the cockpit would rotate down like a “head”. They were surprisingly tall, but were a bit ungainly.

“Huh,” murmured Lonnie and Catra frowned at her, “Looks like this one has some weird electronic signatures… after market add ons? It’s got a lot of excess heat on it… running some additional things maybe?”

Catra shrugged, “More to confiscate. Modding a ship without a license? Operating an unsanctioned mining prospect? Not flagging a live IFF transponder. Shit, we could just strip the thing down and space the pilot. Probably save time,” she chewed her lip, not quite comfortable with the idea - she was getting soft… maybe, “or maybe the brig… see if they know of anything else off the books…”

She’d never been as enthusiastic as spontaneous punishment or arbitrary violence to locals as _some_ of her contemporaries. But you did what you had to do to keep the peace and set an example. Lonnie and Kyle glanced at her and she shrugged. They were clearly a bit more of a fan of the latter plan - a bit soft. One of the reasons, she supposed _she_ hadn’t been spaced.

Scorpia leaned in, “What’s the play here Wildcat?”

Catra let the nickname pass - she was in hunt mode, “It’s a mining tug. Means there’s either a freighter nearby or a container they’re dumping their hauls in… so they won’t run easy. Or if they do, they’ll have to come back. BUT those things are slow. Cruise in, give them a warning, then take ‘em. Strip out the tech, interrogate then…. Eh, we’ll see.”

Scorpia nodded and stepped back, “Sounds um… peachy.”

“You don’t seem keen.”

“It’s a single miner… we could follow them…”

“More chance they spook and we end up chasing them and they can warn their friends. Nah, we need to set an example, early. If we hit hard and fast, a message gets out, makes our life easier. If they _get away_ because we lost them by being too sneaky, we get seen as useless and it attracts… resistance. Go hard, we have an easier ride.”

Scorpia nodded quickly, “Wow, yeah… that makes a LOT of sense. Guess that’s why YOU’RE the Captain.”

Catra snorted, “Damn right. Hey, Lonnie,”

“Yea ma’am?”

“Bet you tonight's ration supplement you can’t knock out their starboard engine in two minutes.”

Kyle made an “Oh daaaaaaamn,” and Rogelio chuckled his throaty rumble. Lonnie looked over her shoulder and grinned, “You’re on.”

Catra wouldn’t mind losing - the crew _needed_ some fun. As they closed in, slowly, Catra picked her moment, “Alright, Lonnie, launch drones, silent running, keep ‘em low powered, use the ‘roids for cover. I’m gonna ring the dinner bell.”

There was a faint rumble as the bay doors opened and Lonnie settled back in her seat. Around her, various holographic displays came to life, showing the various views of her drone swarm. Well, less a swarm and more a squadron - eight spherical drone-fighters, slaved to a single, remote fighter at the middle of the swarm.

Basically, one pilot controlling eight fighters. Or sort of - influencing them, whilst they flew the main ship. It was _complex_ but amazing to watch. Light flickered around Lonnie’s fingers as her haptic controls came to life. Across the floor, Kyle activated his own - standard to have a reserve squadron to back up the primary. Catra doubted he’d even get a chance to launch - Lonnie was _good_.

The small flight of drones drifted away from the _Shadow_ and Catra flicked the main viewscreen to show the debris field ahead. A marker flashed, showing the location of their target. Nonchalantly, Catra plucked a wired-in communications speaker from the front of her chair and clicked the transmit button - she could’ve asked Weaver to hail the ship, or for Scorpia to connect. She glanced at her XO as the woman held her pad up - it showed the ID and registration of the ship - even without an IFF, Weaver’s (admittedly stymied) sensor capability was able to pluck that information.

She frowned. It should be a normal mining tug - but the readouts were very weird - clearly a modded ship - extra engine juice? Better mining lasers? Who knew! She smirked at the name of the vessel.

“Mining vessel... _snerk_ … _Swift Wind_ . This is Captain Catra of the Imperial Scout Cruiser _Shadow_. You are in violation of Imperial Mining edicts and we have identified unauthorised modifications to your vessel. Heave to and prepare to be boarded. Comply and we will go easy on you,” Catra spoke with her normal bored drawl and swung her leg over the armrest of the Captain’s chair as she spoke. She unclicked the button and smirked as she stared at the bridge ceiling.

“Uhhh, ok….” Lonnie sounded concerned. Catra looked up.

“What?”

“They’re…. They’re turning…”

Catra snorted again, “Running, wow…. They can’t be that much faster. You’ve got three minutes to…”

“No they’re… turning towards us.”

Catra blinked, “What?”

“They… they can _see_ us…” murmured Kyle. He moved as he switched to sensors, “I’m getting no RADAR pings or LASER targeting. And we’re on silent running….”

The feline Captain glanced at Scorpia, “Some of those mods…. Better sensors?”

The big woman shrugged, “On a mining vessel?”

“We are in the sticks here. Maybe it pays to have good sensors if there’s pirates,” mused Catra. She shrugged, “Still… it’s a mining tug. Maybe thinks we’re bluffing.”

Lonnie grinned, “Let’s show this hick you don’t ignore the Empire.”

On the screen, the drones flared to life as Lonnie activated their full engine power. 9 orbs rocketed forwards, the smaller drones moving like birds in a flock behind the lead. The mining tug sped up, faster than specified allowances for that model should permit. Catra arched an eyebrow as the vessel angled towards the drones, then swerved and moved into the debris field just as Lonnie’s swarm opened fire. Red beams lanced through space and turned small rocks to dust. The tug vanished between a set of floating rocks, but was still visible on the map screen. Catra sighed.

“Mining tug _Swift Wind_ , I say again, deactivate your engines and prepare to be boarded. I won’t even hold this little bit of defiance against you!”

Lonnie spun her drones through the debris field, some splitting away to act semi autonomously. The tug rocketed past ahead of her, but seemed to swerve and jink away from all her shots. Lonnie growled and Catra smirked. Looked like she’d be the one winning the bet - regardless, Lonnie’d get their target. And that was what Catra _really_ cared about. 

They had some ACTION and they’d get some decent info and maybe some stuff they could incorporate into the ship or get a Navy bounty payment on. Either way, it livened up the patrol.

Lonnie, however, seemed to be having difficulty. Even with 9 weapons tracking the ship, the spread of asteroids was not helping - the tug weaved through the field and seemed familiar with the spread of rocks. Catra sighed, “Can you move this along Lonnie? Or d’ya need Kyle’s help?”

“I’ve… got this…” grunted Lonnie from her seat. On screen Catra watched as the ship dove and weaved. She frowned - the pilot was _good_. They made the ship dance. It gave her a weird pang of nostalgia. She blinked as she saw the tug rocket towards a pair of drifting rocks. Her eyes widened.

“Lonnie… wait…”

“I’ve… got this!” growled the pilot. Catra huffed and leaned back. On screen, which showed the camera view of one of the drones, they saw the tug spin and dive through the gap, just before the two rocks collided. Lonnie laughed as her swarm split and went over and under the rocks - an attempt to pincer the target. Lonnie wouldn’t fall for an easy trap.

Except as the drones crested the rock, there wasn’t a speeding tug.

No, there was a _transformed_ tug, which spun and flung an arm out.

A lance of energy turned one of the camera feeds to static. As they watched, the now-bipedal vessel flung another arm out and a fragment of rock spun into _another drone_ which blanked out as well. Lonnie cursed and pulled her remaining group back, re-organising them ready for another attack run. She looped them around an asteroid and bore down on the mech…

Which was now a tug again and was speeding away through the field. Catra blinked.

“They can’t….”

Scorpia looked at her, “What?”  
  


“They… they take like five minutes to reorient. The hydraulics and pistons and…. That’s why the military said _no_ to them as a multi-role combat platform. Shit at rapid reaction,” she pointed at the screen, “That thing just shifted _twice_ in under a minute.”

Lonnie snarled, “What the f-”

“Neutralise that ship, pilot. NOW,” Catra swallowed. Something about this felt very wrong. A skilled pilot she could _just_ about credit out her. A skilled pilot with a machine that was off spec and did things that would test mechanical limitations? That was bordering on weird.

Flash updates were always vague, always incomplete, because Command never really liked their officers knowing TOO much in the field. She had a feeling they knew more about this system and she was going to demand a thorough debrief when Octavia came through…

Right _now_ though, they had to deal with whatever _this_ was. Lonnie was wrestling with her controls, whilst Kyle worried over the sensors. Rogelio had brought them to the edge of the field. Catra looked at him as he turned in his chair and shook her head. Scorpia piped up, “Where is… it?”   
  


The dreadlocked Lonnie snarled, “No idea. On our sensors but they’re moving in circles. Can’t turn to track them for a clean shot.”  
  


“Kyle, get your swarm out there. Rogelio, keep us at distance. Don’t want to get hit by stray rocks.”

Lonnie sagged a bit, irritated at needing backup. Catra didn’t care - this was more important than pride right now. Suddenly the proximity warnings blared and Kyle cursed, actually _cursed_ , “Incoming!”

“On your drones?”

“On US!” he squeaked. Catra growled and pulled up their sensor net on the projector. A red blip barrelled out of the field and made a bee-line for the cruiser.

“Point defences, ONLINE, shoot them down! Dorsal guns, target them!”

The screen flickered to a guncam view from the uppermost dorsal turret. A wireframe overlaid itself, showing the projected path of their target. The inky black of space lit up as the point defence guns, smaller turrets basically, began to fire in bursts. The main turret lined up and fired, a single pulse of superheated red energy. The target jinked to one side, shockingly agile for a _mining_ ship, and continued to weave in and out of the tracer fire.

Lonnie crowed as her swarm shot out of the field at an angle to the target. Red beams lit up the night, but _again_ the ship danced and weaved. There was a faint flash of blue as one of Lonnie’s hits glanced off. Catra shook her head, “It has _shields_? HOW DOES IT HAVE SHIELDS?!”

Scorpia stammered and Catra punched the comms to the Engine room, “ _Hey Catra… why are the guns firing? Are the guns firing? Are we being shot at?”_ _  
_ _  
_ “Entrapta! How can a _mining_ ship have _shields_?”

“ _Um… it can’t. You need emitters. And a power supply… orders of magnitude…. Well, you need a battlecruiser level powerplant for one and…”_

“THEN EXPLAIN HOW A MINING SHIP HAS ONE THAT’S COMING RIGHT FOR US!”

_“Oh… um… that doesn’t sound good._

_“_ Scorpia… send her the damn readouts,” fumed Catra, “Lonnie, knock those shields out, You, gunnery! FOCUS FIRE. keep that damn thing away! DO IT NOW!”

But too little too late - the Swift Wind was a thousand yards out and had momentum. Catra watched as, on screen, it transformed and altered its trajectory. A line of blue energy - the mining laser? - extended from one blocked arm and suddenly the craft was past the gun cam. There was the crackle of electricity across the camera, then it went to static. The crewman at the gunnery station turned, white faced, “We’ve lost the uppermost turret.”

“Lost? What do you mean….?”

Another view popped up and Weaver’s smug voice floated over, _“Oh, here we are. Yes, quite the daring pilot there. I wonder if they’d have made a better Captain.”_

The Swift Wind came in and swung _past_ the turret, the energy beam angled to slice into the turret barrel and then the armoured segment of the gun housing. And it did so like it was _nothing._ The mech briefly touched the hull and _ran_ along the surface, then _leapt_ and transformed back into a _mining tug_ then zipped away, the point defence guns turning far too slowly to track.

On the sensors, the ship moved into the relative blind spot at the _Shadow’s_ rear. Catra cursed as the vessel shook briefly, “What the hell.”

The comm crackled, “ _Um… HIIIII. So, we’ve lost engine three. Major energy overload through the exhaust…”_

“Rogelio! TURN THE DAMN SHIP! The… they’re targeting the engines. KYLE what the hell are you doing?”

“O...on it….”

Kyles drone swarm dove around the the _Shadow_ and barrelled towards the tug which had looped to try another run at the engines. A lance of blue light stabbed out, but Rogelio’s manoeuvring meant the beam just sliced into armour plating, the range too great to do more than melt some globules of steel.

Drones fired and the tug was off again, aiming for the field. Lonnie moved to intercept and the tug suddenly shifted back into mech form and _slowed_. Kyle squeaked as a metal hand suddenly appeared in the camera view of his speeding drones, the Swift Wind having stopped so suddenly his drones had caught up.

The camera of the drone spun as the mech _punted_ it. There was a flash as the drone impacted another of Lonnie’s. Then the young man squeaked again as the mech spun in the middle of his swarm and diced another four drones. He reared back on the controls and fired, but the mech boosted out of sight.

Red beams lanced forth, met by another blast of read. Lonnie gaped at her screen, then looked at Kyle, “YOU SHOT ME!”

He stared back, “ _You_ Shot MEEE!”

Catra facepalmed, “Get. Your… BACKUPS out there. NOW! SHOT THEM DOWN! IT’S ONE DAMN SHIP!”

The _Shadow_ oriented to try to bring the belly gun to bear, but the Swift Wind was back in the debris field. Catra practically shrieked. Scorpia turned to another crewman, “Get missiles online.”

Catra growled - good plan. Cluster missiles. Usually good against a whole formation of strike fighters…. But so many missiles even whoever this pilot was… even they couldn’t evade _that_ much ordnance. She plucked the comm again, “You…. stand down _now_ . We’ve gone easy on you. If you don’t surrender now, I swear I will gut you, take you back _in chains_ to Prime and let you be displayed as an example to all who oppose the Empire,”

She didn’t add _and me_ to that. The pilot continued to ignore them, however as they sped back amidst the rubble. Were they making a retreat? Having slapped the Imperials about, were they just going to waltz away?

Both of the reserve Drone squadrons were out now and they sped into the field. Kyle and Lonnie spread their squadrons out, to reduce the risk of collateral damage. They flowed through the rock-field taking potshots at the fleeting silhouette of the tug.

They watched as the tug sped down to a large chunk of destroyed planet and morphed into its robotic form. The machine planted itself there, defiant.

Lonnie panned her squadron out left. Kyle moved right. They slowed and their targeting computers all blipped with a _confirmed_. Catra stared at the screen and realised she’d been holding in a breath. Why had they… stopped?

“Lonnie… pull back….”

“I’ve _go-”_

“Pull back that’s an or-”

The mech _crouched_ , then spun on the rock, a flash of blue showing the mining lasers boiling the rock beneath. Both drone pilots yelled in surprise and began firing. The mech _rolled_ whilst still gripping the rock and then leapt, the carved piece of planetoid held in front like a shield.

Strangely, Kyle reacted first. He spun his drones away into a random pattern. That meant he only lost _half_ of them to slices of blue light.

Lonnie just held the trigger down and tried to blast the rock chunk apart. She moved her main drone at the last minute, as the rock suddenly exploded like a shotgun blast towards her drone swarm. But it was for naught, as it got sliced clean in two as the _Swift Wind_ shot past. The others were obliterated as the mining mech smashed the rock to shrapnel.

Kyles drone swarm formed up and set in pursuit whilst Lonnie screamed in frustration and tumbled out of her chair, then stalked to the gunnery console and shoved the crewman there away, “KYLE! Keep a lock on that asshole…”  
  


“Uhhh….” Kyle nodded.

  
Catra stood, “Lonnie, get back to your post, _now_ ….”

“No asswipe in some dinged up _action figure_ shows me up. NO one,” muttered the dreadlocked girl, “KYLE! I’ve slaved all the missiles…”

Catra choked, “ALL?”

Scorpia stepped forwards, “Lonnie, you need to stop.”

The drone pilot looked up then blinked as she saw the _death glare_ Catra was sending her way. She stumbled back and nodded. Catra relaxed.

“Bad move… but not a bad idea. Scorpia. I want waves. Empty the damn bins. This thing is _too_ damn dangerous, whatever it is.”

Scorpia nodded, then looked at Kyle, “Got that?”

“Yes m….ma’am.”

Catra looked at Rogelio, “Helm, move us into the field. I want as close a launch as we can, wide spread, so that pilot gets them from all angles. Too far away, the missiles will line up on trajectory, they can evade. Kyle, box them in.”

The ship rumbled as Rogelio took them closer. Out here, the debris was not _quite_ as large, but still a collision risk. The point defence guns fired, keeping the more at-risk rocks back. Catra chewed her lip as Kyle wrestled with his controls.

What was the pilot doing? They were… leading him on a dance? Trying to evade?

It felt like they were _playing_ with them. Luring their drones out, then wiping them out? Taking out the main gun? Ballsy, but risky. Even with shields.

Well, so far their opponent had had surprise on their side. They’d caught them off guard. Catra’d been _cocky_. Not now. Now she was going to bring the hammer. And pick the damn corpse clean afterwards.

Kyle swore, “Another drone down, how… how are they that fast?”

Catra blinked at the screen. The vid replay showed the tug had moved back to mech, then _run along the surface of an asteroid._ The mech had then spun and _kicked_ a drone, utterly destroying it, then shifted back into a _tug_ and shot off.

It was so… familiar. Like this was a game. A _challenge_ . Some of the Academy cadets had that view. _She’d (the name... refused to bubble up)_ treated all the training that way. Catra certainly had. It was why…. _They_ had gotten along for a while. Competitive. Of course, they’d found other things in common, other things to compliment one another.

“It’s coming back _at_ us!” that was Lonnie. Catra cursed _again_ as the dinky tug rocketed around a rolling rock and transformed. It thudded down onto the hull, halfway along the ruined turret between the bridge and the mech. The machine crouched and began to _cut into the hull_. The mining laser was making swift work of the metal - something designed to melt diamond and burn through pressurised rock would find armour little challenge.

Kyles drones buzzed from the asteroid field and began firing. Blue flashed around the mech, then the lasers bit into the hull of the machine. Catra grinned feral, “GREAT! Shields ain’t so good now, huh. Where’s point defence?”

One of the nearby gattling turrets was slowly turning to angle in. But then, the mech moved its other arm and pushed away from the ship’s hull. It tore away a segment of armour plating and used the to smash a couple of the point defence guns as it hugged the hull, then flung the shrapnel towards Kyle’s swarm. Then, as before, it was gone, back into the field.

The crew exchanged looks. Lonnie shook her head, “They’re… insane….”

“They’re _winning_ ,” snarled Catra.

“ _Um… HIIII Again… sorry to bother you.. But security sensors are going mad… I’ve got indications of…”_ _  
  
_

“Not now Entrapta! We’re fighting a…”  
  


_“Yes I know that’s why….”_

“Look, if it’s a busted power cable, fix it….”

“ _No it’s….”_

“Gunnery. yeah we know it’s smashed…”

_“No it’s….!”_

“Look unless, somehow, there’s a bomb on board…”  
  


“ _THERE’S A BOMB ON BOARD.”_

Catra blinked, then looked at the monitor. The view was of the external hull, where the mech had been melting the plating. She could make out something there. And then swore. She punched the ship-wide comm, “BRACE! ALL HANDS BRACE!”

The mining charge blew in and split the out hull out into a four metre hole. Catra snarled as the lights went red across the ship and klaxons blared. Lonnie and the crew were fighting small electrical fires across the deck from feedback.

_“Ummm… we’ve got a MAJOR hull breach on… yeah, um, got the seals…”_ Entrapta’s voice broke through Catra’s fury.

“Casualties?”

“ _None…No fatalities”_ the engineer sounded surprised, _“Just… um… electrical and minor propulsion damage. I’ve sealed the section remotely. Just cuts and bruises. One concussion. Going to make getting around a bit trickier…”_

Made sense - it was mostly armour and non essential systems. Wiring to the guns and so on. Still. She heard someone call her name and turned in her seat.

“Captain, missiles locked, trajectories programmed, optimal spread for nil evasions… I think we got them,” Scorpia heaved a sigh and smiled, “Think… yeah we can launch. Structural integrity is still good.”

Catra grimaced, a snarl of a smile on her face, “ _Fire_.”

The ship shook as every single missile tube belched out its payload. The wireframe made it look like some flower of violence - the contrails of the rockets making a bloom of death around them. Kyle’s drones were still buzzing the fleeing tug, which seemed to be trying to make a break now. Maybe that had been their game - shield wasn’t up to all that much, so cripple their pursuer and flee?

Good tactical sense there. Shame the missiles would end it. Catra _almost_ wanted to meet a pilot with this level of _grit_.

She smirked with triumph as she watched the _many many_ blue dots of their missile compliment slowly surround the dodging and jinking red dot. For someone who was supposed to be running away, they were doubling back a fair bit. Clearly Kyle was harrying them well enough. She frowned at that though.

Her gaze tracked to the drone camera. Kyles shots went wide as the ship dodged… but every time Kyle seemed to drop back, the enemy ship…. Slowed?

Catra felt a knot of worry in her gut, “Rogelio….”

  
  


The missiles curled in, a fist of death slowly clenching around its victim. The reptile turned in the helmsman position. He growled a query. Scorpia frowned.

“Hey, um… you look nervy…”

_“I think perhaps our dear Captain is reconsidering her options.”_

“Rogelio… turn the ship, clear the debris field… don’t want… any shrapnel… “

“Ohhh you think the mess from the explosion might knock some rocks our way? Oooh good call Wildcat…”

Catra had been thinking that, but only as a very _unlikely_ outcome… something else niggled her.

She watched the cameras and the slowly constricting view of the missiles. Then she saw it happen.

The tug flipped. As in _flipped_ . It continued moving along its trajectory but was facing the wrong way. Three short bursts of blue and Kyles drones were _gone_. He sat back in shock, “They…. They…. Could’ve taken me anytime…” his words came out a shocked whisper.

Catra watched the sensor blip as the vessel fired its engines and _slid_ at an angle over a fragment of planetoid. The tug emerged the other side and hugged the rock in a sharp turn. The lead missiles were closing and several detonated against the rock. She couldn’t _quite_ follow the manoeuvre but the enemy pilot, did a threading motion through several asteroid and soon the fist of missiles had become a thread.

A thread that was _tailing_ the tug.

The tug that was now moving at an angle 45 degrees relative to their vessel. Catra blinked and shouted at Rogelio, “Get us behind a damn rock _now_!”

Scorpia looked confused, Lonnie seemed to slowly be getting it. Rogelio made a noise more expected from _Kyle_ and began to alter course.

The tug was now at 45 degrees from them and was angling down, diving towards them at speed. Catra realised something as they closed in.

The hull breach was on the top. The armour on the top was _weakened_. And the mech had… taken out several point defence guns, “ROLL THE SHIP! ROLL THE DAMN SHIP!”

Rogelio complied.

The tug came in and adjusted it’s angle, dragging its payload of missiles in its wake. Catra screamed in frustration and humiliation as the sensors showed the enemy vessel shifted to its mech configuration and impacted the hull with a _clang_ . It paused, then _dove_ away, a metal fist grappling to the hull as it swung _around the ship_ like some weird climbing frame.

Catra’s teeth rattled as the wave of missiles blasted against the armour of her ship, the "smart" missiles trying, blindly, to follow the trail of the mech. That meant the impacts were spread across the hull.

The belly of their ship buckled and burst, but mostly held - the point defence guns did their best and managed to prevent a good number of missiles from impacting. But as the shaking and rattling ceased, an eerie silence took over the ship. Lights flickered as even the emergency red lighting failed. Screens were dark. The hull groaned in protest. Scorpia, slumped by the door, moaned and rubbed her head, “What… the…”

Catra gripped the arms of her chair and hissed. She punched the button for Comms, “Damage report… Entrapta? ENTRAPTA?”

_“Oh dear. I think things aren’t going so well, are they Catra. If I had been at full functionality then this would NOT have happened. You pathetic pride and need for validation…”_

Catra’s eyes slid from the comm to empty air, “Well, shame Weaver…. You’re going down with the ship…. ENTRAPTA, answer me dammit…”  
  


_“.....re Ca..a….. Intern...mms are...n … unctio…. Jury rig… adio…...ne… oment.”_

There was a pause, “Entrapta?”

“ _AH HA! THere we go. Sorry, just had to build a radio from the ruins of this machine down here. Think it’s a missile ANYWAY um… yeah. You um, didn’t like, crash into an asteroid did you?”_

“No… missiles….”  
  


_“Oh. That makes sense. The time between echo and impact, along with the doppler… anyway, yeah um…. Damage report. Everything.”_

“Everything?”

_“Everything is damaged. Engines offline. Thrusters. Long range comms are… yeah. Maybe to a beacon…. Gunnery, no escape pod functionality.”_

Catra slumped and groaned. Great, “And medical situation?”

_“One dead… Hudson… Three critical in engineering. Not checked… if we lost anyone to hull breaches, but not seeing much in the way of major damage. Lots of wrecked armour and broken fragile systems….”_

“Uhhh Catra….?” Scorpia’s voice made Catra turn. She squinted at what her XO was pointing at. The map table clickered and Catra sagged. Their ship was drifting towards a rather _large_ asteroid.

“Entrapta,” sighed Catra, “I don’t think that matters. Unless you have a plan to remove a kilometre wide _rock_ from our immediate vicinity?”

_“DO we have missiles?”_

Scorpio shrugged, “Some….”

_“Can we launch them?”_

“Oh…. uh… no. How… how many would we have needed?”

_“Three hundred. At targeted points. And us at a decent range.”_

Catra let out a humourless chuckle. Then she blinked. The red dot was coming back. Her teeth clenched - they wanted to finished the job, “Scorpia, Lonnie…. _Anything_ working?”

The two women scrambled past unconscious crewmen to check the flickering screens, “Nothing’s responding,” cursed Lonnie. Scorpia grunted in agreement.

The Captain glared as the red dot circled them. Then she heard a _clang_ that echoed throughout the ship. She swallowed, awaiting the violent suction of decompression.

But it didn’t come. Instead, she watched as the red dot remained latched to their ship… and the asteroid began to recede. In fact, the whole _debris field_ began to recede.

The tug was…. Pushing them away?

After five minutes, the dot detached. Entrapta’s voice came back over the comm, “ _Catra! I’ve rewired some routings… I can get comms back up! And gunnery…. Do you need the guns?”_

Catra stared at the red dot and swallowed, “Uh... just comms for now. Please.”

There was a click and the hiss of static from Catra’s hand held. She swallowed and lifted it, the spoke haltingly, “Thi….this is Captain Catra of the Imperial Scout Cruiser _Shadow_ …. Thank you for… that.”

She unclicked the button and waited. Suddenly a green light flashed on her chair - a hail request. Catra blinked and pushed the button - a video connection?

Their screen crackled to life, all grainy and low-definition for a moment. It revealed…

A set of VERY toned abs. A grey tank-vest was riding high as the person at the other end scrabbled at something above the camera - likely flight control controls or extraneous systems. And then a voice cut in. A voice that _nailed_ Catra to her chair.

_“Hey Catra….”_

The abs disappeared as the figure dropped into view and sat back in _her_ flight chair, gaze preoccupied with monitoring systems and tracking _something_.

She looked… the same. Well, not _quite_ the same. Her ocean blue eyes looked more tired. Her features were _sharper_ , more defined. She looked a bit more worn, but still, somehow, solid.

Her blonde hair was still tied in that ridiculous and yet endearing ponytail. Her mouth curved in that smug smirk.

_“Next time you want to screw a girl, buy her dinner first, hmmm?”_

Catra stared at the screen. Those blue eyes met her own, mismatched set. Catra tried to speak, “Y….you. How? WHY?”

“ _Me. I’m just that good. And you shot me first,”_ that smile turned to a frown, _“Not funny. This your gig now? Pirate?”_

“I am NOT a pirate!”

_“Well… sorry, Captain Catra, I will not be partaking of your hospitality today…. But I did enjoy our dance. A bit like…”_ her face was sad for a moment, remembering something, “ _Old times….”_

Catra watched as the woman put two fingers to her forehead and flicked a small salute off, “No… wait…”

“ _Yeah, not going to stick around for your relief. Don’t worry, I can tell your comms will reach the beacon and I’ve made sure there’s no incoming debris or stellar trash that can impact you. You may have to hold tight for a few days… no pirates here anymore to worry you.”_

Catra blinked, “What do you mean….?”

_“I didn’t appreciate their company. So I… politely asked them to leave. Then less politely. Same as I’m asking you, Catra. After all it was you who said you hoped never to see my… treacherous, back stabbing, cowardly face… I think that was it?”_ blue eyes stared at her, still sad. Mouth set in a thin line.

“I… you… this…”

“ _It was… an experience…. to see you Catra. Take care of yourself out there. Don’t… be so rash next time. Ok? Maybe just… keep to the other colonies, ok?”_

“You can’t RUN… I… WE will….”  
  


The sad smile shifted to one of mild annoyance, “ _You can try. But why bother. Just… go. Keep that promise you made to yourself. Goodbye, Catra.”_

The video cut out. Catra’s claws dug into her command chair and she half shouted, half wailed:

_“ADORAAAAA!”_


End file.
